


A Sultry Christmas To You

by VincentMeoblinn



Category: Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Anal Sex, BDSM, Cheating, Foursome - M/M/M/M, Humiliation, Knotting, M/M, Multi, NO HOLMESCEST, NO RELIGIOUS REFERENCES, No Incest, Omegaverse, Oral Sex, Orgy, PWP, Polyamory, Rimming
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-03
Updated: 2013-12-03
Packaged: 2018-01-09 01:56:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 17,046
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1140084
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VincentMeoblinn/pseuds/VincentMeoblinn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Alpha!Sherlock has been with Omega!Lestrade for years when his brother, Alpha!Mycroft invites him over for Christmas in order to introduce him to his intended bondmate Omega!John. When they all meet up everyone finds themselves face to face with their ideal mate… in the form of the person sitting across from them instead of beside them.</p><p>Dedication: Prompt from Livelongandallonsyto221b, who wanted something quite a bit different, but my muse went totally Domme on me so… enjoy!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Livelongandallonsyto221b](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=Livelongandallonsyto221b).



 

 

They were running late. Not a huge surprise since Sherlock didn’t even _want_ to be there in the first place, but it was his duty as pack and younger brother to meet his pack Alpha’s intended mate. So Sherlock stepped up to the front stoop, rang the bell (he could have just walked in, but waiting for an answer was a further stall tactic) and tried not to squirm too uncomfortably. Beside him his on again, off again lover of several years smirked and shook his silver haired head.

“This brother of yours must really be something if you hate visiting him this much,” Lestrade chuckled, “Is he as pretty as you?”

“I wouldn’t know,” Sherlock scoffed, “Why? Contemplating a Holmes sandwich, are you? Perhaps if I find his intended mate insufferable- which I doubtlessly will considering my _brother_ chose him- I’ll find a way to grant your fantasy.”

Lestrade rolled his eyes. It was a longstanding joke between them that Lestrade was rather picky about his lovers while Sherlock could care less. Being one of _very_ few Omega Submissives in Scotland Yard he had to be careful who he dated and especially who he slept with. Choosing Sherlock had actually given him a reputation as something off a god; who could sleep with that insufferable git and not go completely stark raving mad?

The door opened and they were led into the library by a servant (beta, unbonded, 22, attractive but still a virgin, preferred submitting to dominating, had a secret crush on Mycroft) who opened the door with a small bow and a drink offer that Sherlock eagerly accepted. Sherlock walked across the room and dropped into the high-backed chair that was usually reserved for himself on the rare occasions he visited his brother. Mycroft Holmes sat with a regal air, sipping a flute of champagne and running his fingers through the hair of the man who knelt by his feet.

“Brother,” Mycroft acknowledged with a nod.

“Brother,” Sherlock repeated, “I believe you’ve seen my lover in the papers, but let me formally introduce you. This is Lestrade.”

“ _Greg_ Lestrade,” Lestrade whispered out of the corner of his mouth. Sherlock ignored him. He had no reason to give anyone the man’s first name when he never used it himself.

Mycroft gave Lestrade a studious glance, likely deducing everything about the man from it, before returning his gaze to his brother.

“You’ve been well, Sherlock. That’s an improvement over our _last_ meeting.”

“Quite,” Sherlock replied with a tight-lipped smile, “I’ve been busy, and you know how activity suits me. The cases the Yard throws my way are only slightly more entertaining than the ones I manage to draw in from my website. You have been more than well I see. Your Omega shows signs of abuse, however.”

Mycroft snorted, “Hopefully you aren’t foolish enough to think they’re from me!”

“Certainly not. Omega Submissive army doctor, likely his abuse occurred before his discharge from services.”

“Gods, can he do that, too?” The man kneeling by Mycroft’s feet asked, but he was ignored by them all. The Omega hadn’t been introduced to Sherlock yet, so it was the height of offensive to acknowledge him directly.

“Yes, though I am surprised you noticed it. You must have gotten better over the last few years. My Omega was a prisoner of war for a few months. When I met him he was quite damaged, couldn’t walk without the aid of a cane due to a psychosomatic limp, but after a year of therapy- that I endorsed and encouraged- I’m proud to say that he is quite recovered.”

Mycroft looked proud of himself as he babbled on about the virtues of his recovered intended, and how much he’d invested in making him what he was today, but the glances that Sherlock stole out of the corner of his eye said the Omega didn’t feel the same. Recovered? He was coping, nothing more.

It was beyond awkward. Mainly because they never spent the holidays together, but also because the Omega kneeling on the floor at Mycroft’s side was almost embarrassingly aroused. In fact, Sherlock was suffering from a serious bout of concern over his own sexual prowess. He didn’t think he’d _ever_ gotten Lestrade that aroused outside of heat, and the scent pouring off of the flushed Omega wasn’t that of an Omega even _near_ heat. He’d toyed with the idea that his brother had quite repulsively stuck a vibrating plug inside his Sub before inviting them in, but there were no obvious signs that this was the case. No, simply sitting beside his Alpha fiancé apparently aroused the Omega to the point of panting! When they retired to the dining room and sat down to their starter soup Sherlock finally decided he couldn’t take any more of the Omegas enviable desire.

“How do you get anything done around here?” Sherlock demanded finally, “How do you even _leave the room_ for more than a second?”

“I beg your pardon?” Mycroft asked, lowering the soupspoon that had been halfway to his mouth.

“ _Him_ ,” Sherlock stated, pointing at John despite how rude the action was, “He’s practically… he’s… you’ve got to be able to _smell_ …?!”

Mycroft scowled, “John, why don’t you go and _relieve_ some of your discomfort.”

‘John’, the Omega hadn’t been introduced to him yet as was typical of Mycroft’s possessive behavior, stood up with a horrified look on his face and fled the room in humiliation. Sherlock stared at Mycroft for a moment, but the man merely continued to eat his soup.

“You aren’t going with him?” Sherlock asked, unable to contain his curiosity. The entire night was just so… _abnormal_. Even for the Holmes family.

Mycroft barked out a laugh, “We aren’t all as young as you, Sherlock. As I’m sure you were aware from the moment you saw me, we coupled before you arrived.”

 _‘_ Staking my claim’ was left unsaid. Mycroft and John were going to indulge themselves in a very _formal_ and public bonding, which left them currently _un_ bonded despite their status as a couple. As such, it was necessary for Mycroft to leave the scent of his semen on the Omega’s body regularly when other unbonded Alphas were around. Since Sherlock and Lestrade were unbonded- casual fucks was what Lestrade termed them- Sherlock was considered a threat to his brother’s claim to the Omega until bonding occurred.

“Then I’m very comforted,” Sherlock decided with a smirk.

“How so?” Mycroft asked.

“Here I was concerned about how _aroused_ he was. I was beginning to question my ability in bed if just sitting beside you made him so excited; Lestrade has certainly never reacted in such a way to me. Now I know you’re simply not fulfilling his needs.”

Mycroft scowled and took the bait, standing up and chasing after his needy Omega.

“Lestrade,” Sherlock growled, his hands dropping immediately below the table to yank his zip open, “Quickly.”

Lestrade shifted on his knees and swallowed Sherlock down, working his mouth perfectly as he always did. Sherlock panted eagerly and then found himself… unable to climax. He was hovering on the edge of the precipice but was completely unable to reach culmination! Growling in frustration, Sherlock shoved Lestrade away despite the risk of teeth; of course, the man was too talented to scrape him and did no harm whatsoever.

“Something wrong?” Lestrade asked, wiping off his mouth.

Sherlock growled angrily but didn’t reply. He had no idea what he needed to get off, but apparently Lestrade’s mouth wasn’t it.

“Stand up. Bend over the table. Drop your trousers.”

Lestrade obeyed and Sherlock found himself faced with a twitching hole that was… dry. Sherlock swore and spit on the man to add a bit of moisture, slipping a finger in and stroking his prostate until the man began to lube up properly. Lestrade wasn’t post-estrus due to the suppressants he took, but they had a habit of slowing down his sex drive; they’d only had one heat together in six years. Mostly they enjoyed their volatile relationship (violent, angry sex) at the Yard where Lestrade worked (the only Sub DI in all of England) and Sherlock offered (forced) his services as a Consulting Detective.

Finally the man was wet enough to be penetrated and Sherlock shoved himself in. He gripped his already swollen knot, knowing that knotting him in the dining room was a bit much even for Sherlock Holmes, and thrusted fast and hard. To his absolute fury, he was no closer to orgasm; in fact he was losing his erection the more the scent of the other Omega drifted away through the ductwork.

_This isn’t going to happen._

Sherlock pulled out, zipped up, and flopped down in a tiff. Lestrade cleared his throat pointedly, but Sherlock ignored him until he got frustrated and stood up to right his own clothing.

“So much for you wanting to be a considerate lover,” Lestrade groused.

“If it isn’t happening for me, it isn’t happening for you, “Sherlock snapped.

Lestrade grumbled angrily, but dropped back down to his knees just before Mycroft stormed into the room with a look of fury on his face. Sherlock put a polite smile on his face as Mycroft seated himself and snapped his fingers to get his soup reheated.

“Something wrong?” Sherlock taunted.

“He’s apparently feeling a bit off. He’s gone to bed.”

“Well, we’ll be here all week. There’s no rush. I’m sure I’ll have plenty of time to get to know your intended.”

Sherlock hadn’t _meant_ that to come out sexual, but it had and he was now met with two very angry pairs of eyes. Sherlock pretended ignorance and pushed his soup aside as he waited for the next course to arrive. He and Lestrade weren’t in a D/s relationship; though the man was polite enough to kneel and behave when out in a setting such as this. Normally they ate dinner side by side if they ate together at all, rather than having Lestrade kneel before him. Sherlock was fully aware that Lestrade wanted more than that, but he was also aware that the man _didn’t_ want it with him. Lestrade had a child already with his ex-wife, so he didn’t honestly care if he bred again. That being said, he had stated on more than one occasion that Sherlock was most definitely _not_ his Dom. Sherlock didn’t care so long as the cases kept coming in and he was able to satisfy himself on the side from time to time.

Then continued their meal in silence, but Lestrade was apparently not content to kneel at Sherlock’s feet and eat from his fingers as society preferred. Instead he gave Sherlock a rebellious look and slipped beneath the table. Sherlock grinned and spread his legs eagerly while Mycroft gave Sherlock a disgusted look and seemed to consider calling it a night. Sherlock waited and… nothing.

Across from him, Mycroft jumped and dropped his fork, splashing his tie with brown sauce. Frowning in frustration the man began to pat it clean, calling for a servant. It was the servant who _really_ gave the game away, as he walked up to Mycroft with a wet towel and gaped in clear shock at the foot of his bosses chair. Sherlock resisted the urge to look beneath the table. He knew what was happening so there was no point in satisfying Lestrade’s little act of rebellion by acknowledging it. Instead he continued to eat with a blank look in face while Mycroft flushed and shifted a bit.

The sound of a zipper being lowered rent the air, but neither Holmes acknowledged it. Mycroft’s breathing sped up just a bit for a moment and then he suddenly gave his food an outright alarmed look. Sherlock looked up in surprise, momentarily convinced that Lestrade had actually _bitten_ him (intentionally!?) but Mycroft disputed that by dropping his fork once more and gripping the table with a look of intense pleasure on his face. Sherlock’s jaw dropped as Mycroft gasped, hips rolling beneath the table, and moaned in clearly overwhelmed excitement. Sherlock had, of course, seen his brother in the grips of coitus before- no family went long past puberty without having a furpile that occasionally resulted in somewhat public sex- but he’d never seen him be anything but composed even in the midst of his orgasm. Whatever Lestrade was doing under that table he’d _never_ done it to Sherlock!

When Mycroft’s orgasm hit he let out two short shouts of pleasure, his hips jerking as his eyes rolled back in his face and his skin turned a shade of red usually reserved for heart attacks. _Le petite mort._

Sherlock wasn’t a jealous man. He’d never restricted Lestrade from having lovers outside of their little trysts. He told himself that repeatedly as Lestrade shifted back over to his side of the table and resumed his kneeling position on the cushion provided for him. He looked… flustered? Confused? Sherlock frowned at Lestrade’s lost look, noting his flushed skin and the soaked state of the front of and back of his trousers.

 _He came without removing his clothes? Without being penetrated? Did they have anal sex just now rather than oral?_ Sherlock did a few mental calculations and then dismissed the idea. It was physically impossible given the height of the tables and chairs. Something wasn’t right here, but he didn’t have enough evidence- or relationship experience- to determine what it was.

Mycroft, for his part, was flustered and awkward in a way that Sherlock had never seen before. He nervously fiddled with his flatware and knocked over his wine. He swore and stood quickly, revealing poorly restructured clothes, and snapped out a goodnight to them both before storming from the room.

“Well, shall we?” Sherlock asked, “I imagine you’re _quite_ full.”

Lestrade nodded and pulled himself upright on shaking legs. His stomach was probably sloshing with all that Alpha semen, seeing as how no trace of it was on Mycroft’s clothes. He knew full well that Lestrade could knock back a pint without taking a breath, but he’d never seen him do it with ejaculate before; most Omegas preferred to be ejaculated _on_ rather than _in_ when it came to oral. He hurried the man back to their rooms and immediately began undressing.

“Whatever you did with him, do it to me,” Sherlock demanded, his cock starting to twitch with interest.

Lestrade gave him that lost look, meeting his eyes and then glancing down at his body, and shook his head.

“Red.”

“Sorry?” Sherlock asked, gaping in shock. Lestrade was safewording over a _blowjob_?! He’d never safeworded _ever_ , “You needn’t swallow if you’re full. I’ve never demanded it before.”

“I need to leave. I’m going home.”

“You can’t. We’re here as a couple… thingy,” Sherlock argued waving his hand vaguely in the air, “Mycroft insisted I bring a partner since they’re unbonded.”

“I can’t be here, Sherlock. Call someone else. You must have others on the side just…” Lestrade paused, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath, “I can’t stay here.”

“Why?” Sherlock demanded, “Because I didn’t feel like fucking you earlier?”

“This isn’t about you, though I’m not shocked you think it is,” Lestrade sighed, and then muttered under his breath, “ _Narcissistic bastard.”_

“Then what? I don’t care that you fellated my brother, you must know that.”

“I do. I care. That’s the problem.”

“You’re embarrassed? You’re a sub and we’re from an aristocratic family. You must have noticed that he didn’t even _look_ at you until I introduced you to him. Even then you’re basically invisible to him unless you’re servicing him. Don’t do it again and he’ll ignore your presence the rest of the visit,” Sherlock shrugged indifferently.

“It isn’t about _him_ either!” Lestrade shouted angrily.

“Well, what then?!” Sherlock shouted back, horrified that he couldn’t just deduce it as he usually did. _Relationships are truly_ not _my area, but we’ve never behaved as a couple before. What is going on?!_

“I want him, okay?!” Lestrade shouted back, his face flushed and a horrified look on his face, “His _smell_ turned me on, Sherlock, his _smell_. I’ve _never_ been drawn to someone like that. The second I was between his thighs I never wanted to leave. I can’t just kneel on the floor and watch him get _married_ on New Years Day!”

Lestrade’s breath was coming fast, he was pacing the room, and he was flushed as though about to weep. Sherlock knew from years of friendship- and friendship with benefits- that the man was more likely to be moved to _sarcasm_ than tears.

_What the hell is going on here?_

“You’re in love with him?” Sherlock couldn’t help laughing, “After one blowjob you’re in _love_ with my insufferable brother? Oh, that _is_ rich! I thought better of you, Lestrade, I really did. To think someone who has managed to climb the ranks in the yard _despite_ his dynamic would fall to his biology at a time like this!”

In hindsight, Sherlock really should have expected the fist that connected with his jaw, but he’d been so used to Lestrade grudgingly submitting to him (both in the Yard and out) that he’d never thought the man would lash out at him _physically_ in anger. Mock him? Yes. Tease him? Regularly! Pick fights in order to get make-up sex? That was the basis of their ‘relationship’. Hit him? Never! Until now.

Sherlock stood leaning against the chest of drawers he’d been flung back against from Lestrade’s well aimed blow and stared in shock as the man grabbed his suitcase off the floor, popped up the handle, and stormed out with it dragging behind him on the plush carpet.

“What the _hell_ his going on here?!” Sherlock raged, and then headed to his brother’s room to consult the bastard. After all, when the Consulting Detective was baffled his obnoxious and lazy brother was usually the one to point out the ‘obvious’ to him and solve a case- even if he didn’t deign to lift a finger to do research or confirm his theories.

Sherlock pounded on Mycroft’s bedroom door but was met with silence. Irritated he repeated his action, sniffed the air, confirmed the scent of his brother and his overly hot and bothered Omega, and pulled out his lock pick. A few quick turns had the less than stellar lock open and he barged into the room content in the knowledge that anything his boring brother fiddled with in the bedroom would likely _not_ shock him.

He was wrong.


	2. Chapter 2

John lay stretched out on a padded table raided to the perfect height to have sex upon, his arms lashed above him and his legs pinned open with a spreader bar which was hanging from the ceiling by a secured pole. The ensemble held him completely immobile while a machine pounded a large dildo into his arse over and again. The man was gagged, and his face was drenched with drool and tears as he whimpered in the contraption. His cock was limp at the moment, but upon catching Sherlock’s scent it began to fill once more. A mess of ejaculate on his stomach showed how long he’d been being tortured thusly- likely from the time Mycroft followed after him until now.

Sherlock was overwhelmed with fury. Mycroft wasn’t even in the _room!_ What if something went wrong and the Omega were injured by the machine? The gag wouldn’t even let him shout for help! Sherlock crossed the room and turned off the device before beginning to release the trembling Omega. A niggling voice in the back of Sherlock’s head pointed out the remote strapped to the Omega’s hand, the button of which he was frantically pressing over and again, but Sherlock was far too gone. He was hard and aching, wanting this Omega beneath him _immediately_.

_I’ll show him what a real Alpha can do for him. He’ll never want my lazy brother to touch him again! He’ll beg at my feet for food by day, moan my name at night, and fill up with cubs over and over and over and…_

A blow to the side of his head sent Sherlock toppling to the floor, but he was up and snarling in an instant. Across the room their tussle took them, turning far more violent than a simple dominance fight as Sherlock made it _very_ clear he intended to claim the Omega as his own. Mycroft took it more seriously then, and Sherlock found himself truly struggling as the man fought him violently. Sherlock felt teeth sink into his shoulder and snarled as he slammed his head into Mycroft’s in an attempt to knock him out. They both reeled and them Sherlock found himself quite suddenly pinned to the ground.

“The _fuck_ do you think you’re doing?!” Mycroft shouted, but it wasn’t directed at him. It was directed at the Omega who had squirmed free of the last of his bonds and pinned Sherlock to the ground. He was sitting on his lower back and Sherlock’s instincts were warring with him. _Hump the floor at that gorgeous smell or freak out because I’m pinned?_

Mycroft solved the dilemma by backhanding John hard enough to send him toppling off Sherlock’s torso. Sherlock scrambled up and made to pounce on him, intending on claiming the Omega then and there, but Mycroft put a well-aimed kick to his kidneys and then another to his face when he curled into his injured side. Sherlock lay there, coughing and sputtering through the blood flowing down his face and the pain in his side, while Mycroft dragged the struggling Omega out of the room and down the hall, screaming obscenities at him the entire way.

Sherlock spent an hour in A&E before meeting Mycroft outside the local hospital. The man was smoking and still looked furious, but he offered Sherlock a drag despite the animosity in his eyes.

“A car is waiting for you,” Mycroft stated, indicating the vehicle on the corner, “Should you wish to leave.”

“I’m out of the wedding, then?” Sherlock smirked.

Mycroft scoffed, “Mummy would be furious. You can run away with your tail between your legs and anger her, or you can please us both by submitting yourself to me. Your choice.”

Sherlock frowned angrily. The phrasing had been meant to intentionally push Sherlock into a dominant state of mind. What Mycroft _really_ meant, was that Sherlock should allow himself to be given a subdual marking by his pack Alpha. Of course, Sherlock knew an attempt to cause him trouble when he saw one and refused to rise to the bait.

“Fine. Get it over with,” Sherlock sighed, pulling his curls aside so he got to save a bit of face by choosing where the mark was made.

Mycroft complied, practically not touching him in any way except to suck the mark onto his brother’s neck. Sherlock swayed a bit at the surge of comforting chemicals that occurred at the feel of a subdual marking by a pack Alpha. It was always a bit of a rush and Sherlock sometimes regretted that his pack Alpha wasn’t someone who would respect and cherish him as the powerful Alpha he was. Of course, that would probably change if he found himself a new pack _and_ mated so that he was more ‘useful’ to the pack.

 _With that John fellow,_ Sherlock’s mind decided as he followed Mycroft back to his car and climbed in carefully to ease his bandaged ribs, _I’m not going to be able to get him out of my mind. Who is he? Why am I so captivated with him_?

“Your marriage is in six days,” Sherlock stated in disgust, “Will you keep him sated until then so this doesn’t occur once more?”

Mycroft gave Sherlock a disgusted look; “John went on some sort of Mock Heat, likely triggered by his longing to be bonded and my reluctance to do so without a ceremony. He’s already over it and smells perfectly normal now.”

“He _was_ on heat?” Sherlock asked, a look of surprise gracing his face, “He didn’t smell right.”

“He’s been damaged, as I mentioned. One of his scent glands was cut out during his capture in Afghanistan. He is still capable of mating and going on Heat, but he doesn’t draw Alphas in as he once did. He’s also fresh off the suppressants.”

_Fertile! He’s fertile! If I get a hold of him on Heat I can breed him to my heart’s content! Even a Mock Heat might be enough…_

“Why weren’t _you_ in there taking advantage of such a glorious event?” Sherlock asked.

“Because my instincts would demand I claim him. The only reason I did not was because of the suppressant patch I wear, but engaging in coitus with him during a Mock Heat would likely break through that barrier. You know that. It’s _beyond_ obvious. Are you sure I didn’t cause brain damage?” Mycroft replied, a look of concern on his face.

Sherlock snorted, “Your insistence on a _ceremony_ is ridiculous. I’d be riding that gorgeous creature into oblivion if I were you.”

“You’re too impulsive,” Mycroft replied, “Speaking of which, do try not to break into my bedroom again. This entire thing could have been avoided if you’d just stayed in _your_ wing of the house and not caught a whiff of his diluted hormones, which are clearly strong enough to addle even _your_ brain. I kept you so far away for a _reason_.”

Sherlock harrumphed and Mycroft sighed, “Where did your Omega go, anyway? I sent someone to tell him that you were injured and they couldn’t locate him.”

“He left.”

“Left?” Mycroft asked, giving Sherlock an odd look.

“He decided he was in love with you after sniffing your crotch,” Sherlock laughed, “He said he couldn’t stand to stay and watch you marry. Can you believe that? Sentimental nonsense!”

“That from the man who is currently plotting to steal my Omega from me,” Mycroft replied, but his tone had no bite to it. He was staring out the window with a wistful look on his face. Sherlock joined him. They had nothing further to say to each other.


	3. Chapter 3

Greg was beyond aroused. He’d always been attracted to men who wore confidence like a bespoke suit- that was practically his only attraction to Sherlock besides the man’s appearance- but he’d never met one who exuded it as if it were _air._ Mycroft Holmes was sexuality personified and Greg wanted to crawl over to him on hands and knees and beg for a good fucking. That only made it easier to crawl under the table and suck the man off when Sherlock decided to be his typical bastard self. He wasn’t honestly thinking of making him jealous, Sherlock didn’t care for him in a way that would cause that, he was just making a point.

Which was why he was completely blown away when he pressed his face between the Alpha’s legs and breathed in his scent. He’d never gotten hard and wet so fast in his _life_. He was instantly panting, groping for the zipper almost frantically as he longed to bury his face in the man’s groin and simply inhale him. At first the man clenched his thighs, refusing him entry despite his swelling interest, but then his legs flew open as if spring loaded and Greg buried his face between them and tried _not_ to hyperventilate on that glorious musk. He nearly broke the zip getting it down and then swallowed down a whimper as he found him without pants beneath. _He’s just come back from being with_ his _Omega; of course he isn’t wearing pants._

Greg set about licking that twitching member, lathing it from base to tip to get rid of the taste and smell of the Omega who had been with him earlier. The man gasped and shifted as Greg buried his face in his gigantic bollocks and began to lick the Omega scent off of them as well. The man began to thrust into Greg’s hand while the man stroked him with one hand, gripped his swelling knot with the other, and continued to kitten lick the rest of his throbbing member. The man’s knot was pulsing already, a shock since he must have had sex at least twice today, so Greg took the tip of his cock in his mouth and sucked hungrily. It was impossible to get an entire Alpha cock into a mouth, but he could get the entire head and then some inside his mouth and he used his tongue to his full advantage. It didn’t take long before he was swallowing greedily, massaging the knot with both hands as those huge testicles pushed outrageous amounts of come down his throat. Greg had never swallowed before, but he _wanted_ that come inside of him and found himself gulping it down as though starved for it.

His own orgasm took him by surprise. Another first as he’d never actually come without having _something_ in his arse before, but he’d just climaxed without anything more than his own fantasies and his crotch rubbing against the man’s leg. When it was clear he’d milked all the juices from the man he was likely to get he slipped away and slunk back to Sherlock’s side while every instinct pulled at him to go back and _beg_ the man to keep him forever.

_What the hell is this?_

XXX

Mycroft had been more than disgusted with John as he strapped him into the sex machine. John had never been the sort to plead for sex, but he was whimpering for it now as a Mock Heat overwhelmed him at the worst possible time; awful because Mycroft’s ignorant brother was present, and absolutely horrendous because not only were they trying _not_ to bond just yet, but Mycroft wasn’t usually capable of having sex more than once a day unless it was during heat. So the man being needy and aroused was less than thrilling for him. He walked away, somewhat hard from the faint scent of hormones pouring off his intended, knowing that if the man weren’t so _damaged_ he’d be more interested. It was depressing for both of them.

Which was why it was such a colossal shock when Sherlock’s Omega (Greg?) had crawled between his legs and Mycroft had turned _unbearably_ aroused. Within seconds he was making a complete fool of himself as the man licked his cock as if he was trying to _claim_ it. Mycroft was a practical man, he wasn’t fool enough to claim love at first slurp, but his enjoyment of silver hair wasn’t enough to make him desire this daring Omega the way he did. He wanted to rip him out from beneath the table, throw him into their dinner so that it smeared across his Sherlock-scented clothes, and fuck him to within an inch of his life. It didn’t help that the man was rutting against his leg like a desperate animal.

Those thoughts threw Mycroft over the edge and he came into the man’s mouth, shocked to feel him hungrily gulping him down. A glance at his brother showed that Sherlock was as shocked by his display as Mycroft himself was, but no comment was made and Mycroft was able to flee to contemplate his shameful exhibition in peace.

Then the man who had driven him mad with just his mouth and hands simply vanished.

XXX

John was repulsed. He had gone nearly a year without a sex drive at all after coming back from Afghanistan, had required chemical and talk therapy for months, and now that he was finally able to have sex with his fiancé he found himself inexplicably attracted to _someone else._ The man’s brother, for pity’s sake! No wonder Mycroft hadn’t wanted to fuck him!

So John wept as the machine took him violently, because he had never been so humiliated and betrayed by his body in his life. He wanted to sink into the ground and vanish, and every orgasm forced out of his body only served to reinforce how _wrong_ it all was. Then the object of his wicked desire showed up and all John could think was that he hoped the Alpha had zero morals and would take him while he was still gagged and bound so he could plead innocent. A moment later the man started untying him, muttering under his breath about how he would make John want him more than his brother.

His words were a slap of reality to John, who thumbed the alarm to get Mycroft to him immediately.


	4. Chapter 4

A/N: A reminder- pack Alphas are the bridge between Omegas and breeding/mating/claiming issues. If an Omega finds hirself pregnant without an Alpha the pack Alpha will act as a father figure. If an Omega and an Alpha are mated but for whatever reason can’t reproduce, the pack Alpha will step in and try to trigger heat or breed the Omega hirself. If an Omega wants to breed but doesn’t want to be attached to an Alpha, they go to their pack Alpha and ask for breeding rights (the Alpha can either breed them hirself or find them a mate they’ll accept). A pack Alpha won’t reject a baby born from another Alpha in their pack, won’t have a problem with any Omega (even their own) carrying a packmates cub, and will be allowed to touch a child born recently even if it is not their own (Omegas won’t usually allow anyone except blood relatives and their own mate to touch their child for at least a year). 

 

Sherlock headed into his rooms once he arrived at his old home. He paced the area, threw himself down to think, stood and paced again, and finally took up his violin to play until he got himself together. He had to have this Omega. He had to. The man wasn’t just running through his mind, he was _stampeding_. Sherlock needed him the way he needed _cases_. He could see him now, kneeling on the floor beside a corpse, looking up at Sherlock with love and devotion in his eyes.

_Strangulation, Sir._

_Of course!_ Sherlock would say, running his fingers through that short hair, _This is connected to the Hampshire murders! The game is_ on _, John!_

Sherlock sank into fantasy at that point, stroking and squeezing as he pictured the stoic soldier and doctor in his flat on Baker Street doing everything from pleasuring him to serving him tea. He came with a groan and then lay still while his semen cooled on his chest.

 _How?_ There was no denying that the man wasn’t interested in him. He’d broken up a _Claiming_ fight. Omegas didn’t belong in claiming fights! They were supposed to stand on the sidelines and gasp and fan themselves with something until an Alpha came out on top. _Then_ they could fuss over the winner and present their arses for breeding!

Sherlock groaned as his cock throbbed in longing for the Omega once again; he needed to smell him, feel him, _taste_ him. _Now!_

XXX

Greg let himself into his tiny, smelly apartment and collapsed on his couch with a miserable sigh. He knew what he wanted, but he also knew what he wanted was out of reach. That man was going to be married in less than a week to an Omega who clearly worshipped him. Greg was older, grayer, and used goods; he had the cesarean scar to prove it. He might have enjoyed wearing nice clothing and  sitting in opulent surroundings, but he would never belong and there was no way to earn his way into that lifestyle.

Greg shifted uncomfortably as his pants flooded with moisture once again.

“Bloody _hell!_ ” He groaned, rubbing his face in frustration, but a moment later he was swearing in horror and bolting for the door.

Greg threw the latches and the heavy bolt before staggering to the window and checking the bars and latch. Once certain that was secure he stumbled to the kitchen and grabbed the emergency five gallon container of water, which he dragged to the bedroom before continuing the locking process there. Finally Greg struggled out of his clothes and tugged an inflatable dildo out of his bedside drawer. He collapsed onto the bed and shoved it into himself the second he felt himself tent. The flood of lubricant leaking from his body was shocking, he hadn’t been this wet on his own in _years_ \- not since before his daughter was born.

“Oh gods, oh gods, oh gods!” Greg cried out writhing in misery.

He needed more. He needed to feel like he was being taken. Rolling over with what felt like the last of his strength, he located his sex ball and pressed the dildo into it so he could brace it against the wall and thrust back against it. Moaning the elder Holmes brother’s name, he let himself drift into his Heat.

XXX

At first, John thought Sherlock was showing off. They were all seated together in the drawing room, the atmosphere casual enough that John was sitting on the couch beside Mycroft instead of kneeling at his feet. They were holding hands, but John’s eyes and ears were all for Sherlock as the man described his cases and how he resolved them. For a while the bragging disgusted John, but then the man went on about a case he hadn’t managed to solve. It took John a moment to realize that he was asking for Mycroft’s assistance without actually _asking_ him. Mycroft, of course, was aware of it from the beginning and took a calm sip of his brandy before speaking.

“It was the sister, obviously.”

“But _how_?”

“Oh, I’m sure you’ll figure it out,” Mycroft replied with a tired wave of his hand.

John gave him a startled look while Sherlock gave him a furious glare, “Your laziness never fails to astound me.”

“It’s your case, Sherlock. You figure it out. I can’t always connect all the dots for you. I’ve given you a clue- go and _detect_ how I got to that answer.”

“You just don’t want to be bothered to get off your lazy arse and walk me through your deduction!” Sherlock accused angrily.

“You aren’t wrong,” Mycroft smirked, sipping his brandy again.

Sherlock fumed and John stared at him in longing while Mycroft smirked and teased his brother relentlessly.

XXX

Since Mycroft knew that his brother was after his intended, Sherlock saw no reason to hide his efforts. Instead he set about stalking the man over the next several days, lurking wherever his scent led him and trying to get the Omega alone. He avoided Sherlock at every turn, sticking close to Mycroft or his Beta escorts. Sherlock found himself being chased out of every room he walked into until he was shaking mad and frustrated.

Just when Sherlock had reached the point where he was ready to commit murder, he decided to take an hour or two in private to calm himself down. He headed for the library and located a book he hadn’t read before on bee keeping. He sat down and was quickly fascinated by the bee’s social structure and lifecycle. He was so involved in what he was reading that he didn’t notice the scent until it was thick in the air.

When Sherlock looked up the last thing he expected was to see John _alone_ in front of him. The second to last was for the man to throw himself into his lap and begin devouring his mouth as if _he_ were the Alpha. Sherlock went from frozen with shock to overcome with desire so quickly that his head spun as the blood shot down to his cock. John had both hands tangled in Sherlock’s hair and was snogging him desperately. Sherlock gripped his hips and began to thrust up against him, eager to show him how hard he was for him and that he could satisfy the horny Omega.

Just that suddenly Sherlock found his lap bereft and the Omega tearing off across the room. Book abandoned, Sherlock chased after him only to be met with a very locked, very _reinforced_ door. Mycroft had given John a new room and it was made to withstand an Alpha in Rut. Sherlock snarled and gave it an angry kick before taking a calming breath. A sniff at the door let him know the Omega was in there alone- otherwise an Alpha would be marking the door to chase Sherlock off.

“Okay,” Sherlock breathed, and then pressed against the door to speak through the crack. “John?”

“I’m sorry. Go away. Red.”

“I’m not trying to come in. I’m just standing outside the door. Think of it as our chaperone.”

“Okay. Yeah. Okay. What do you want… through the door?”

“To talk to you.”

“We still haven’t been introduced,” John replied, his voice cracking.

“I think we’re a bit past that, don’t you? Considering we’ve had our tongues in each other’s mouths? My Omega… friend- the one I came with- he even had your fiancé’s penis in his mouth,” Sherlock laughed.

“He… what? When?”

“Last night,” Sherlock replied, “After he left you.”

“No, he… he wouldn’t do that.”

Sherlock frowned at his odd leap of logic, “He’s the pack Alpha. He can have any Omega within the pack that he wants.”

“Well yes… I suppose…”

Sherlock was disgusted with himself for not wanting to distress the Omega, but the scent through the door said he _was_ distressed and that was _bothering_ him, “If it makes you feel any better, he left for home.”

“The Omega?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

 _Because he’s as obsessed with Mycroft as I am with you;_ “Ummmm, he didn’t mention. We aren’t that close, really. Just… friends.” _Yes, that’s a safe term, isn’t it?_

The silence drew on for a moment and Sherlock leaned against the door, breathing in the still distressed smell and wanting to wrap the Omega up in silk rope to make him feel safe and secure. Sherlock scolded himself for not learning how to do anything except bark orders at Omegas. He needed to _talk_ to him, but he usually only interacted with Betas and other Alphas.

“What’s your name?” Sherlock asked on a whim, “Your last name?”

“Watson. Captain and Doctor John H. Watson,” The Omega laughed, “I guess we’re introduced.”

Sherlock chuckled, “Oh, I think we’re _very_ introduced.”

“You’re gorgeous,” The Omega breathed, his voice so soft that Sherlock almost didn’t hear him.

“You smell like… everything,” Sherlock replied, wincing at his sudden lack of vocabulary.

“You smell like excitement,” John whispered back, his voice so full of longing that Sherlock could _feel_ it.

“You want excitement,” Sherlock murmured through the gap in the door, “I can give you that. I can give you adventure… it might be dangerous, but it will make your blood _soar_ and I’ll keep you safe _._ You’re a soldier as well as a doctor; you don’t belong in this stuffy mansion being escorted around by Betas with their noses in the air. You should be fighting a different war, Captain John Watson, and I can give it to you.”

“No one wants war.”

Sherlock smiled, “You don’t want it, you _need_ it. You need to feel _alive_.”

John must have been right up against the crack of the door, because Sherlock felt his collar stir as the man let out a stuttering breath.

“You don’t know me.”

“If you know my brother then you know his methods and therefore mine. I don’t have to know you to know what you want. I can deduce it.”

“What have you deduced about me?” John asked softly.

“You need more than pretty things, in fact you don’t even care for them. You’ve been wearing bespoke clothing, but you’d be happier in a jumper and jeans.”

John laughed, “As if that would happen with a _Holmes_.”

“I don’t care what you wear.”

Silence.

“What else?”

Sherlock could hear someone heading down the hall so he whispered his last words with emphasis, “ _You. Love. To. Run.”_

Sherlock took off down the hallway, hearing the last pant of breath and carrying the smell of the aroused Omega away with him in his sinuses.

XXX

Days passed and Sherlock had gone so far as to play his violin outside the room John had locked himself in, apparently with no intent of emerging until his bonding ceremony. He was the epitome of frustrated but there was simply no fixing the situation with John barricaded in his room, especially since Mycroft had decided to post guards. The Alpha was being insufferable and mocked Sherlock’s efforts at every turn.

Mummy and several old bitter aunts were going to be arriving in two days for the wedding in three days. Sherlock needed to snatch the Omega up _immediately._ As it turned out, his chance at getting John out of his room came in the form of a different Omega.

“Mr. Sherlock Holmes, Sir,” A servant spoke softly, bowing low to Sherlock from the doorway of the library, “An Omega is here asking to see you _in private_.”

The Beta servant sniffed as though offended, which he probably was since everyone knew Sherlock had no intention of bonding with anyone. Betas were always offended when Alphas and Omegas didn’t lay down and breed baby after baby so they’d have someone to dote on. Sherlock gave the servant a smirk as he passed, not caring what the man thought, and headed for the entryway. Lestrade stood there wearing his best clothes, with a new haircut and make-up on his face to try to hide his very tired eyes (lack of sleep for roughly three days).

“Oh no,” Sherlock groaned, “You’re going to throw yourself at my brother. It won’t work. Just because he let you suck him off doesn’t mean he’s _interested_. He’s already got a bondmate picked out, or did you forget that while you were _fawning_ over him?”

“I’m not going to ask him to bond with me, just mate with me.”

“You’re joking,” Sherlock stated, taking in the man’s miserable expression, “You’re _not_ joking! You’ll hate yourself.”

“I know,” Lestrade sighed, closing his eyes in misery, “But I’ll have his _cubs_. That’s something.”

“You’ll have him as an Alpha, sure, but you won’t have _him_. He’ll provide for his cubs with you, but he won’t spare you any more time and they won’t inherit.”

“That’s fine.”

“That’s _not_ fine,” Sherlock frowned, and then rethought the situation, “But I suppose you don’t have many other options. You’re clearly madly in love with him.”

“He’s my Perfect Match,” Lestrade replied, blinking away tears, “I’m sure of it.”

Sherlock swallowed a laugh. He didn’t believe in Perfect Matches- it was a ridiculous superstition utilized by hormone-addled teenagers to justify early bonding, and forced people to remain together even after the puppy love had died. However, if Mycroft was going to consider Lestrade’s offer he would do so with his intended by his side, which would get John _out of his room_. In addition, John was a man who based his personality on _loyalty_ , and Lestrade was about to offer himself up as a second mate, if not a bondmate. It was bound to cause friction, and in the interim Sherlock could try to woo the creature away from his brother.

“Well, if he is then you have to do what you must, but why talk to me first?”

Lestrade blinked, “We’ve been together for _years_ , Sherlock. I know it hasn’t been official, but I’m talking about committing myself to someone who also happens to be your _brother_.”

“Ah, I see. This is you attempting to be respectful by breaking up with me first _while_ asking for my permission to court my brother.”

Lestrade sighed and rubbed his forehead in frustration, “I’m really serious about this, Sherlock. I’ve been off my suppressants since I left here. Are you going to be a dick about this?”

“Nope.”

“What, really?” He asked quickly, looking up hopefully.

“You have my permission and my blessing. Go woo my asshat brother, just don’t blame me when you figure out he’s an asshat.”

Lestrade smirked and gave him a teasing punch to the shoulder, which Sherlock managed to tolerate with a warm, supportive (fake) smile.

They turned and headed into the library where Mycroft looked up in curiosity and then calmly rang for a servant.

“Fetch my fiancé,” Mycroft ordered, and decided not to offer either of them seats or kneeling pillows.

Sherlock and Lestrade stood and stared at each other awkwardly, both aware that Mycroft knew why the Omega was there and what he wanted. John did not, and walked in with straight back and downcast eyes. He dropped to his knees on the pillow beside Mycroft and stared in confusion as another was dropped down in front of Mycroft by a servant at his request.

“Sherlock, how is your Omega?” Mycroft asked formally.

“I have no Omega,” Sherlock replied calmly.

“I see. Good evening, Gregory,” Mycroft stated.

“ _Gregory_?” Sherlock asked, “Is that _really_ your name?”

Lestrade muttered, “Yes. You never bothered to find out,” then cleared his throat and spoke carefully, “I’m well, Sir, how are you?”

“Well enough. What brings you to my home?”

Lestrade hesitated for the barest of moments and then dropped to his knees and further forward onto his hands. Mycroft watched with baited breath, his pupils dilating as the man crawled towards him.

“Sir, I wish to become a part of your pack. I’m a fertile Omega, I’ve born one Beta child before, and I’ve stopped my suppressants in anticipation of breeding again. I want to mate with you, as a second bondmate or as anything else you want.”

“ _What?!”_ John hissed.

“John!” Mycroft snapped.

John fumed in silence, but Sherlock and Mycroft merely frowned at the display.

“You’re sincere? You’ve been with my brother for years. Why not mate with him? He’s unattached, unlike myself.”

“I know,” Lestrade sighed, “But you’re the one I want to be with. You’re my Perfect Match.”

John’s jaw dropped and Sherlock smirked as he saw the man waver; he’d correct his assumption that Perfect Matches were real later, for now it was playing in his favor. However, the next reaction was one he hadn’t anticipated.

John growled.

It was rare- exceedingly rare- that an Omega would fight for breeding rights with an Alpha. It was usually referred to in jest and with the implication that an Alpha would love to see it, especially if a vat of pudding and skimpy bathing suits were included in the mix. Sadly, this was the last thing that Sherlock wanted as it meant John was intent on breeding with Mycroft and Mycroft alone, so he was back on his feet in an instant as the two Omegas launched themselves at each other with outraged snarls. Mycroft also came bearing down on the two men wrestling on the floor, shouting at them to stop but otherwise not physically interfering. It was just Alpha instinct not to break up a fight- they were meant to continue until someone won- but not where Omegas were concerned! Sherlock watched in horror as the two men tried to do each other serious harm, but both seemed equally matched and no blow harder than a graze had landed. Finally, John’s military training won out and he had Lestrade pinned to the floor.

Now came the worst part, because Omegas didn’t fight for Dominance as Alphas did. Omegas, when they did fight, fought for keeps. John bared his teeth and Sherlock saw the incisors used for bonding extend out of his gum line, but he wasn’t going to use them to create a mating mark with Lestrade; he was going to rip his throat out. Sherlock felt a twist in his stomach, a moment of agony as he realized he was about to lose someone very dear to him, and lurched forward with a cry to halt. Mycroft did the same, his face mirroring Sherlock’s horror, but the scene before them took another abrupt change.

John and Lestrade had caught a whiff of the scent of two Alphas who were both eager to mate and bond, not to mention aroused due to the fight, and John’s head flew back as he gasped in sudden arousal. Sherlock was standing directly over them now, Mycroft was only a step further away, and both their jaws were hanging slack. John’s teeth had retracted and he had dropped forward on Lestrade to wriggle his arse in the air invitingly, his pants already showing a damp spot as he went flying into Mock Heat while his body demanded he find and secure his mate. Lestrade was in a similar situation, but his position on the bottom required he arch his hips _up_ so he could spread his legs and offer himself as well. This brought the two Omegas’ groins in line and for a moment there was an awkward struggle as each tried to find a way to present their ass and rub their cocks into the welcoming friction. They settled it by frotting against each other as they struggled out of their trousers and pants.

Mycroft and Sherlock were completely lost to the sight below them as the two Omegas lost themselves to pleasure with the nearest body, moaning and rubbing their perfect little six-inch Omega pricks together as they reached back to finger themselves. They were both keening in need, their holes slick and wet in anticipation of an Alpha cock, their minds too far gone to understand that the body touching theirs was another Omega’s- and their competition- instead of the Alpha they could smell so close to them.

Sherlock knew he was staring in absolute lust, but he really couldn’t help it. He’d never seen such a display outside of a porn video, and he’d certainly never expected to see one here and now! He glanced up and caught Mycroft’s eye just as the two men began to kiss each other hungrily, whimpering as they tried to get the ‘Alpha’ they were pressed against to penetrate them and couldn’t understand _why_ it wasn’t happening. Sherlock and Mycroft communicated silently for a moment and then began tugging their own clothes off.


	5. Chapter 5

Once naked, Sherlock pulled his riding crop from the inside of his coat and gave John’s hip a tap.

“Turn around,” He ordered, and was rewarded with an eager Omega flipping about the other direction, “Suck him off.”

John opened his eyes in confusion, located the nearest cock, and started sucking with an eagerness that made both Alphas and Lestrade groan. Lestrade eagerly reciprocated and the sound of slurping and moaning filled the room as the two Omegas eagerly went to work on each other.

“On your sides,” Mycroft ordered next, bringing his belt down across both Lestrade’s thighs and then cracking them across John’s as well.

They watched as the two struggled to figure out which direction they were going before settling on their sides and continuing their eager fellatio. Sherlock dropped to his knees, thanking whatever gods did or didn’t exist for the sight in front of him, before running his leaking cock along the nearest Omega’s back. His mind was starting to drift into Rut; he couldn’t even tell whom he was touching, the people in the room had become ‘fertile Omegas’ and ‘pack Alpha’ to Sherlock. The hormones in the room took an eager rise when the smell of semen on the Omega’s bodies became more pronounced and they began to keen loudly for a cock to fill them.

 Sherlock found an acceptable hole, glanced at his pack Alpha for permission, and then buried himself inside the moist orifice. The gorgeous smell of flesh slapping flesh filled the room and he moaned in bliss as the Omega’s channel clenched around him in orgasm.

_I haven’t even knotted him yet! Oh, such perfection. Such beauty. I’ll fill you up with my seed and you’ll bare me such lovely cubs._

Sherlock grunted as he buried his knot inside of the Omega, noting an increase in muffled moaning and a hungry slurping noise. Sherlock opened one eye and noticed the Omega in question was performing oral sex still on another Omega, who had just filled his mouth with come. Eager to taste it, Sherlock leaned forward and lapped where cock met lips and was rewarded with the pleasant brine of Omega ejaculate. The Omega he was currently filling turned his head, popping off the still-hard cock to slip his tongue against Sherlock’s. For a moment they moaned together as they enjoyed the simplicity of a kiss in comparison to the rolling of Sherlock’s hips as he stroked his knot against the Omega’s prostate. A gasp let him know the Omega was close and then he was coming into the mouth of the other Omega. With a groan, Sherlock gave in to the clenching body in front of him and shivered as pleasure shot up and down his spine. Hot seed pulsed into the Omega’s body, filling his womb and hopefully taking root; of course he would be making another attempt shortly, but for now he relaxed against the Omega and breathed in his scent. Across from him he heard another grunt of satisfaction as the pack Alpha- whose feet he could see alongside the other Omega’s above his own head- came as well.

For a good half hour all was still and Sherlock drifted in and out of consciousness until his knot softened and his cock slipped free. Then it all went to hell when the pack Alpha attacked him and began herding him across the room and away from the Omegas.

Sherlock fought him angrily, trying to get back to _either_ of them and continue mating. They were both fertile, this was his chance to bond with one and increase the pack. Why was the Alpha chasing him away? It was his right to have them both, but he’d already mated one! There was no reason to keep him away now! Any child born of that Omega could just as easily be his even if he continued to mate him for the duration of the Heat!

Finally, Sherlock broke past him and headed back over to where both Omegas were on their hands and knees keening for the Alphas to return to them. They weren’t ready to be mounted just yet, but they were thirsty and it was the Alpha’s duty to keep them hydrated so their lubricant didn’t dry up. The pack Alpha cut him off again, displaying his mating fangs and growling menacingly and then… turned away?

Sherlock stood in confusion for a moment, trying to figure out what was happening as the pack Alpha walked across the room and crouched on the other side of the two whimpering Omegas. It took Sherlock a moment to scent the change in the atmosphere. The pack Alpha was content. That meant he wasn’t contesting Sherlock’s right to breed one of the Omegas.

 _Which one_? _Am I being given a choice? I get to choose one_?

Sherlock crept forward, sniffing at both Omegas while keeping his eyes on the pack Alpha who knelt on the floor and yet still managed to keep looking _down_ his nose at his subordinate packmate with his long phallus bobbing and leaking in front of him. Sherlock continued to sniff both Omegas for a moment, learning their scent and making his choice. One smelled familiar and safe- he was an Omega who Sherlock had mounted before. The other smelled musky and exciting, like a cool mountain wind and spiced wine.

Sherlock hesitated a moment longer, checking once more with the pack Alpha, and then snatched the Omega he’d chosen to his side and hurriedly herded him to the other side of the room. There he crouched while trying to figure out what he should do next. Flee? Remain? They needed water. They needed pack nearby. The pack Alpha had allowed him an Omega, was there a reason to leave? Should he leave to get water or stay? His own stomach was growling. He had to decide.

The door opened and both Alphas growled, but quickly left off as a Beta walked into the room. He gave them a worried look and then announced he would bring food and water and left in a hurry. Sherlock settled down to sniff at his Omega, noting the scent of the pack Alphas semen inside of him. That wasn’t a problem. He’d breed him regardless and hope his seed took. If not, then he’d just try again in a year.

The Beta returned and Sherlock helped the squirming Omega drink water while he ate hungrily. The next wave was fast approaching so Sherlock settled himself over the Omega by straddling his hips. When those hips lifted and a cry of need left the Omegas lips he thrusted forward and into that tight hole, made tighter by the Omega’s closed thighs. Growling out his satisfaction at the slick welcome, Sherlock ravaged the Omega and knotted him the second he was able. Knowing this was his chance, Sherlock extended his mating canines, running his tongue along them to taste the fluids that would enter the Omegas blood stream and mark him as bonded, shivered at the unexpected pleasure that the sensitive teeth gave him, and then bit hard on the Omega’s scent gland. His taste buds exploded with the Omega’s scent, tasting it as well as breathing it in and memorizing his mate so that he would be able to recognize him even in his most feral state. The act of bonding alone was enough to send Sherlock over the edge again and he came screaming against the Omega’s neck before plummeting into a deeper state of Rut. His ‘memory’ of the event ended there.

XXX

They were gorgeous. Mycroft had never seen such a wanton display. He pounded into the Omega in front of him with glorious abandon, experiencing Heat in a way he never had before. Often he was more lost to the moment, but being pack Alpha the presence of another Alpha was keeping him almost completely coherent. He was able to enjoy the powerful lust of Heat without the haze that drowning in feral instinct brought about. He caressed both Omegas equally, snatched up Sherlock abandoned riding crop and began to snap it across them in time with their thrusts. Sherlock instinctively matched his applied rhythm and he purred his pleasure at his response. Sherlock purred in return and Mycroft regretted not being able to see his brother’s enjoyment of this very rare show of praise, but they were staring at each other’s feet and feet were far less expressive than faces.

Mycroft was close, his orgasm chasing him like a wild thing as he indulged in this rare pleasure. He felt powerful, undefeatable, he brought welts across both Omegas hips, arms, legs, the nearest Omegas feet, and then tossed the crop aside and began biting wherever he could reach for the sheer joy of drawing blood with his mating canines. He didn’t bit the mating gland of the Omega he was currently mounting, though. This wasn’t the right Omega. He needed to get his hands on the other and the only way to do that was to finish here, let his knot deflate, and chase his brother away from the Omega he wanted to bond with. The ceremony would have to be purely ceremonial; there was no way he was leaving without sinking his teeth into that other Omega’s gland and claiming him as his own.

Finally, he indulged himself in a rare moment of sadistic energy the moment his knot released and gave Sherlock a swat with his own riding crop, which he likely wouldn’t recall, before chasing him away from the Omega he’d just finished breeding in order to have his way with the other. At the last moment he took in the scent of distress of the other Alpha and made the sort of decision that made him the pack Alpha. He stepped back and let Sherlock choose his mate.

XXX

John awoke with a groan. A second Mock Heat in a week! He’d probably lost an entire stone by now. He couldn’t wait to get to a scale: so long spare tire! John shifted and felt an arm slide off his hip. He froze. He could smell two Alphas all around and in him- they seemed to have both mounted him in the last six hours. An ache on his neck told him bonding had occurred, but with whom?

The other Alpha was on the other side of the room with Lestrade, their feet visible from behind a desk. John heaved himself upright and looked down at the sleeping form of his mate, his stomach clenching in agony.

_Now what do I do? I could break it. He hasn’t got a bonding mark on his neck, so it isn’t official. Even if it was, only Perfect Matches can’t divorce, and I’m not even certain I believe in those. I could go over to the other one and wait for him to wake up and ask to be bonded. I could go over there and leave a mating mark on him. I could stay here and be with this one. Which do I chose? I’m drawn to Sherlock in a way I’ve never experienced before. He makes me feel alive again, but I owe Mycroft for saving me and helping me heal._

_So._

_Love or Loyalty._

_Loyalty or Love._  

John agonized for several minutes despite the urge of his instincts demanding he bond immediately and then fix his new Alpha Dom some food. Finally he let out a sigh and leaned forward. He hesitated a moment, running his tongue over the scent gland before him and moaning softly at the salty tang of sweat, then he extracted his teeth for the second time in twenty-four hours and bit down.

XXX

Greg woke up with a start, pain lancing through his sides and a sharp sting at his neck. He reached up to touch his neck first, concerned he’d been injured on the job, and his hand came away slightly bloody.

_From my scent gland?!_

The night came rushing back. The feel of John against him, the taste of him on his tongue as he came into his mouth several times- an act so humiliating that it was erotic even to his very satisfied body- the Alphas prowling around them before finally taking them both, over and again. The feel of the crop striking his body and sending him into a spiral of pain-pleasure-pain-pleasure… He wasn’t sure how many times he’d been with either Alpha; he reeked of both their seed. It was a good thing they were both pack and that one was the pack Alpha, otherwise someone would be losing a child to a jealous mate. For now he was sore in all the right places, and had marks that he couldn’t wait to spend hours pressing once he’d had a shower and some proper food and drink.

_Not before I care for my Alpha. I’ve been sleeping for six hours; he’s been fucking for six hours. He needs care immediately._

Speaking of Alphas… which Alpha was his?

Lestrade slipped the softened cock out of his body, clenching instinctively to hold the semen inside of him until his body could absorb it or he could dispel it later, and then turned over slowly to see the man who bore his mating mark.

_Oh my gods…_


	6. Chapter 6

A/N- This chapter starts out fluffy, but I promise more S.E.X. at the end.

John was lovely standing up at the altar in a kilt (no pants) and billowing white shirt. Lestrade was dashing in a grey suit that accentuated his rugged good looks. Sherlock and Mycroft walked forward, arms linked and eyes greedy for their Omegas. John blushed prettily and Lestrade grinned like the proud Omega he was. Finally all four men stood before friends and family- Lestrade’s having been hastily flown in- and clasped the hands of their bondmates.

“Dearly beloved,” The Justice read, “We are gathered here today to celebrate the bonding of these two couples. The Holmes men have graced their family by finding two fertile Omegas.”

Excited gasps went around the garden, though Mummy Holmes gave them all a knowing smirk, her hand clenching and unclenching on her brass dragon-headed cane. Apparently she had known ahead of time that there would be two weddings today instead of just Sherlock and his Omega witnessing his brother’s bonding.

“Today,” The Justice continued, “A pack and a family expand, creating a union that will honor those present. So I ask you all: are there any who can lay claim to these Omegas in the place of the Alphas who have marked them?”

Silence graced the garden; the Justice smiled and continued the service.

“Mycroft Holmes, have you claimed this Omega?”

“I have,” Mycroft nodded proudly.

“Gregory Lestrade, have you accepted this Alpha?”

“Damn straight I have!” Lestrade grinned.

“Gregory!” Mycroft snapped.

“Sorry, Sir. Yes, I have accepted this Alpha as my mate. I bear his mark and will bear his cubs.”

_Or mine,_ Sherlock thought, smirking a bit. In the front row Mummy Holmes frowned and narrowed her eyes at her youngest son.

“Sherlock Holmes, have you claimed this Omega?”

“I have,” Sherlock growled, pitching his voice low. John shivered.

“John Watson, have you accepted this Alpha?”

“I have accepted this Alpha as my mate. I bear his mark and will bear his cubs.”

_Or my brother’s_ , Sherlock thought, ignoring his mother’s furious frown once again.

“The Holmes men were intending on inducing heat and bonding in front of their friends and family, but circumstances have changed and they have already bonded. So instead, I ask you both: Holmes brothers, will you collar your mates?”

“We will,” The men replied in chorused.

Anthea stepped forward with a pillow holding two collars. One was solid silver with a hinge on one side and a very small lock on the other. It was made entirely of titanium, strong and light, with a plaque between both ends that read _Holmes_. The other was classic dark brown leather, a sturdy construction with a ring for a tag. John’s dog tags had been attached, modified to show the last name of Holmes instead of Watson.

The two Omegas dropped to their knees onto pillows and lifted their heads to be collared. Sherlock buckled John into his collar, the man’s eyes closed and his breathing fast as though he were euphoric. Mycroft clipped a padlock onto Lestrade’s collar, staring into each other’s eyes as though they could merge into one person.

“Gregory Holmes, I praise you for submitting to me. I claim you as mine to direct, breed, and own in all ways. I collar you to cover your scent gland and keep you for myself,” Mycroft stated calmly.

“John Holmes,” Sherlock purred, “I _praise_ you for submitting to me. I claim you as mine to direct, breed, and _own_ in all ways. I collar you to cover your scent gland and keep you for myself.”

“I call you Master,” Lestrade choked out, his voice cracking, “Because you have earned my respect. I give you my obedience.”

“I call you Master,” John stated proudly, “Because you have earned my respect. I give you my obedience.”

The dinner was formal and stuffy, but the after party was a bit more relaxed including dancing, mingling, and lots of champagne. Sherlock guided John around the dance floor, staring into the Omegas eyes as the charming man smiled up into his. He loved John’s height; it placed him right where he needed to be to look up at Sherlock in admiration. So Sherlock decided to give him something to admire and started deducing the crowd around them. John’s family was sent through the ringer and the man snickered and gaped in turn.

“Brilliant,” He whispered, “Absolutely fantastic. How do you do that?”

“It’s elementary, really,” Sherlock replied proudly, “I observe and deduce.”

“I’ve looked you up on your website,” John admitted, “It’s amazing. If I hadn’t seen you and your brother do it I’d think it was a magic trick.”

“No trick,” Sherlock replied, “Just intelligence and a keen eye.”

“You’re too modest,” John replied sarcastically.

“Modesty has no place in what I do,” Sherlock scoffed, “Neither do other _emotions_. There’s no place for pride _or_ humility in science, it dilutes the facts.”

“Well I hope you can spare a bit of feeling for me and our cubs,” John replied back, raising an eyebrow testily.

“I will give you everything you need and the same goes for our cubs.”

“I need you.”

“You have me.”

“I can’t believe this is real. I’ve never had what I wanted before. It’s always been duty and responsibility for me. Always. Obedience and protocol, not choice and a hopeful future.”

“I’ll make certain you’re content if nothing more. I won’t promise you bells and happiness and presents.”

“I don’t need those.”

“You might have them.”

“I’ll enjoy them if I do.”

“Then we understand each other.”

John smiled and nodded, so Sherlock swept him close and kissed him hungrily. A few people catcalled, but Sherlock was unfazed. Finally, the time everyone had been waiting for arrived and Mycroft chimed his fork against his goblet to get everyone’s attention.

“Ladies and Gentlemen, Alphas and Omegas, my dearest Betas,” Mycroft recited with a stately pose and a sugary smile, “I know you all were a bit perturbed to find that we had already bonded when you arrived, but I assure you your reservations at local hotels have not been wasted. My husband has only recently been off of suppressants, so it is still necessary to induce a Heat cycle. Therefore, we will leave you all now to retire to our bedrooms and we will leave you with a present. Behold, your party gifts.”

Mycroft held up a vial of oil and the room erupted in applause. It was a very old tradition of the rich to observe the first mating of a couple in order to ensure the heir was conceived, which was the plan for the days activities until the Alphas had bonded with the Omegas before the ceremony. Normally the Omega would be given fertility hormones or an ancient herbal tea for a few days before the ceremony to force estrus. The bonding bite would then trigger a Heat cycle, but with their Omegas potentially pregnant even the tea would be unsafe for them. The reason the crowd was unhappy about the lack of voyeuristic sex was because of the contact high they’d get from smelling an Omega in Heat. A group orgy would have been the results, which was why it was mandatory for everyone to bring a partner, but it was all called off with the Omegas already quite mated. The disappointment had been palpable, but the vial Mycroft held up would give everyone a dose of artificial Omega pheromones to get their freak on with.

Everyone hurriedly collected their vials and headed off while Mycroft collected his grinning Omega. Sherlock gave his brother a cheery nod as they passed, a sign of just how good his mood was with his new Omega on his arm.

XXX

John was still feeling a bit off in Sherlock’s rooms, especially after spending over a year in Mycroft’s rooms. He was still shocked that Mycroft wasn’t upset about him choosing his younger brother over him. Then again, the man was practically ravaging Lestrade against the walls every day, which was far from the way he’d behaved even when John was on heat. It was clear as day that they belonged together and John… John belonged with Sherlock. The man was enigmatic in a way that made John want to beg for his cock like a stereotypical Omega Sub from a cliché romance rag.

Thankfully he had pride.

“Kneel,” Sherlock ordered.

John dropped to his knees, head held high and smiling wide.

“Your safeword is mort, and I expect you to use it only if you’re close to death.”

John nodded. It was Sherlock’s way to start with that sentence, but he’d yet to explain why. John’s safeword was predetermined by his DNA; there was no way to alter it though many couples chose to use the traffic light route to avoid the stench associated with biological safewording. John suspected that Sherlock’s emphasis on his safeword was his way of acknowledging that they were right for each other. Sherlock was a Consulting Detective for Scotland Yard and anyone else who could bring him something worthy of his attention. He was cold, calculating, and studious. John had already been warned by several of Mycroft’s servants that he kept corpses in his flat. A Sub whose safeword meant death in the old language – or the note sounded on a hunting horn to announce the death of a deer- was almost poetic.

“Yes Sir,” John added when Sherlock waited for his verbal response with a raised eyebrow.

_Gods, those cheekbones. I want to bite them… isn’t that a bit backwards?_

“Maybe later,” Sherlock replied with a smirk.

John shivered and whispered, “Amazing.”

“I’m in the mood,” Sherlock breathed in a tone that implied he a discussion of takeaway, “For a bit of bondage. Do you like bondage, John?”

“I love bondage,” John replied in the same tone, “A bit of rope, some handcuffs, a nice eyehook or two… Always a good time.”

Sherlock’s smile was reward enough. He could be himself around his Alpha, rather than biting his tongue as he always did with Mycroft. Thankfully Lestrade had the aristocrat wrapped around his little finger, so the man was far from cowed as John had been; he had no reason to feel guilted into obedience as John had. Instead, John gave his obedience to Sherlock willingly, and during the rare occasions when he wasn’t feeling particularly submissive Sherlock snapped at him or ignored him in turn, punishing only when he actually deserved it (twice so far- John was testing him a bit).

Sherlock headed over to the foot of the bed and took out some rope from the chest there. He started by finding the bite and doubling the rope, then threw the middle over John’s neck and smiled down at him.

“Stand,” Sherlock ordered. John stood and his movement flowed into an intense kiss as Sherlock used the rope to pull them together. “I hope you have stamina.”

John’s eyes flashed with excitement and Sherlock’s widened in desire. He’d never had someone look at him the way this man did, and it was downright addictive. John let himself moan softly to show his pleasure as Sherlock wound the rope around his chest, looping here and twisting there, never pinching the skin but always keeping it tight enough to be felt. He loved being bound; the safe feeling it provoked in his lizard brain was something beyond comforting. As the binding continued past a simple chest harness and onto suspension, John felt himself drifting into subspace as Sherlock’s firm hands gently coaxed him into letting the world around him go. His leg and its phantom pains didn’t exist here. The wound in his shoulder wasn’t ugly here. He wasn’t worried about conceiving a child here. He wasn’t worried about damaging his Alpha’s relationship with his brother here. He simply existed, and Sherlock existed too, and that was fine.

Those ethereal green/grey eyes drew him in with every glance as the man checked for comfort without a word, adjusting a ropes position here and caressing his skin there. No words were needed between them, Sherlock simply knew when John needed something and when Sherlock needed something John gave it to him. Like now, when Sherlock’s arousal was thick in the air and between his thighs and John knew the man needed completion as desperately as John needed to give it to him.

The chest harness and one leg, his good leg on the ground supporting him on his toes more as a steadying point and to keep the drag on the ropes from becoming unbearable, suspended John. His arms were extended above his head and spread to strain his breathing without restricting it, elaborate and beautiful knots twisting above each wrist to create an artistic appeal. Sherlock walked behind him and slipped a lubricated finger between his cheeks to stroke his pucker until John relaxed even more, not aware he’d been tense until that moment.

“Good,” Sherlock whispered; never ‘good Sub’, just ‘good’. John felt his words as well as heard them and let out a soft hum of happiness.

Sherlock’s finger breeched him and John hissed as his soreness from nearly a week of repeated Mock Heats and buggerings- by a damn _toy_ instead of a person- reared its ugly head.

“Too sore?”

“No,” John lied.

“Too sore,” Sherlock repeated as a statement instead, “How many Mock Heats did you have, exactly?”

“About one a day from the day we met until we bonded so… four? I think? It’s a bit of a blur. I can take it.”

“There’s good pain and there’s bad,” Sherlock informed him as if _he_ were the masochist, “You dislike genital torture, and this counts as that as far as I’m concerned.”

“I want you inside me,” John almost argued. His mind was floating too much to get the tone into his voice.

“I’ll be inside you,” Sherlock replied softly, “Just not like this.”

Sherlock eased himself around John and lowered the suspended leg. Instead he got more rope and bound the man’s legs together- starting at his waist- winding the rope down and down and down until John’s hips and legs were mummified. Around and twist. Around and twist. His arms would come around John’s legs in an embrace and then twist the rope behind him and cut off another inch of movement. When he reached his cock he bound it into the ropes, pressed flat against his stomach. When he reached his sensitive bollocks he gently tucked them up against his body pressing them into the cavity there, and bound them against him. The effect was almost a corset for his lower half, but never so tight as to cut off circulation and do damage. John was panting at the effect. A gap had been left in the back and front just below John’s arse. He instinctively knew what this gap was for, but it didn’t stop the overwhelming pleasure from radiating through his body as Sherlock slid his lubricated cock between his thighs.

Sherlock moaned at the tightness and John began to pant with excitement at giving his Alpha pleasure. He could feel his arse leaking lubricant that would never be used, but he knew Sherlock would be aroused by the smell alone. His Alpha set a brutal pace, shaking his body like a rag doll as he fucked his thighs. John had never felt a knot externally before, at least not with anything besides his hands, so he was surprised at the firmness when Sherlock pressed that between his thighs with a brutal thrust. Then he looked down and gasped as he saw Sherlock’s ten inch cock protruding from the front of his thighs- thick, red, and pulsing, with long white ropes of come jetting out in front of him. Sherlock’s orgasm seemed to go on forever, his semen pooling in front of them as the man grunted out his release. John shivered through his aborted climax, the rope acting as a cock ring, as he felt Sherlock’s knot pulse between his thighs.

“John,” Sherlock whispered.

One word. As if his world revolved around his Omega. Perhaps it did.

“Sherlock,” John sighed in bliss, and let himself float free in the headspace that his Dom so generously provided for him.

Sherlock pumped his cock a few more times and came again, his second orgasm apparently even more exciting as he let out a sharp cry. John watched his semen fly a rather remarkable distance and shivered in delight. The puddle on the fine carpeting in front of them was huge. For a moment Sherlock rested his forehead on John’s shoulder, breathing heavily and running his fingers over the gaps in John’s chest harness. He gave his nipples a tweak and then started teasing them in earnest. John whimpered and squirmed, needing friction on his cock, as Sherlock’s cock pulled free with a hiss of pleasure from his bondmate.

Sherlock circled around John and kissed him deeply while pinching his nipples cruelly. When the kiss ended he moved down John’s neck, lathing it in gentle counterpoint to the twisting and pinching on John’s sensitive buds. John was panting piteously as Sherlock worked his way down, finally taking one abused nipple in his mouth and moving the soft underside of his tongue around it in a soothing caress. John whined in the back of his throat and Sherlock chuckled against his chest, pressing small kisses to along his path to the other swollen teat.

“Soon these will be full of milk for our child.”

“Gods!” John gasped, his body making another valiant attempt at coming as Sherlock lathed that nipple with wet silky caresses.

Then Sherlock moved away, leaving John’s nipples cold and tight in the cool room. When he returned it was with a pair of medical scissors in hand. He gently slid them between skin and rope- the cool metal pressing against his bollocks and making him tense with arousal and fear- and clipped six ropes away, grasping them and tying them off before they could escape him until he had a square open around John’s groin. John’s cock was twitching and leaking eagerly, his bollocks drawn up completely even without the support of the lowest rope.

Sherlock knelt before his Omega, smiling up at him with a commanding presence despite the submissive pose. With near reverence he leaned forward and ran his tongue from root to tip along John’s cock. John opened his mouth to ask for permission to come, but was overwhelmed by the feel of Sherlock’s hot breath teasing the end while his tongue flicked the most sensitive spots with firm caresses. With a strangled cry John came hard, his bouncing against the flat of Sherlock’s tongue. John opened his eyes in horror and stared down at his Husband’s come splattered face. True, it wasn’t the volume that an Alpha could produce- a mere two teaspoons for an Omega- but it was still wet and sticky and _not on_.

“Oh gods, Sherlock,” John gasped, “Master. I’m sorry. I…”

Sherlock stood, eyes carefully closed against the splatter on one lid, and a small smile on his lips. He gently grasped John’s shoulders and then moved his hand up to his neck and cupped his jaw.

“Clean me off, my little come slut,” Sherlock breathed out, his voice so deep it went straight to John’s still straining cock.

John moaned and Sherlock moved closer so that John had to start at his chin. He lathed along his jaw, the stubble like sandpaper against the sensitive muscle, tasting himself for the first time in his life. He was slowly directed up to lick off Sherlock’s lips, dipping his tongue into the man’s mouth and licking a puddle of come _off his tongue_. Further up along those unbelievable cheekbones- which John did _not_ dare to bite- and on to his left eye where John licked the largest puddle before gently, so gently, with soft laps, licking the come from the corner of his eye nearest his nose. The eyelashes tickled John’s tongue, but Sherlock’s eyelid didn’t even tremble. John whimpered at the trust and whispered his devotion as Sherlock’s hand wrapped around his aching cock once more.

“Let’s try this again, shall we? Do it correctly and I won’t punish you for the first time.”

John gasped and was grateful for the ropes stopping him from thrusting his hips. Sherlock teased him, his caresses going from firm to soft, tight to loose, until John was frantic with the need to climax. His bollocks were tight to his body and only his willpower was keeping him from getting off again.

“May I come, sir?” John gasped out finally when he felt he’d done a damn fine job for quite long enough.

“Is that how you beg? Hmm, we’re going to have to work on that.”

If John hadn’t been lashed to the ceiling he’d have dropped to his knees and planted his face on the floor to beg properly, but he had only words to convince the man he was being good enough to deserve his pleasure.

“P-please, Sir. Please, my Husband, my bondmate, father of my children-“

“Well, probably,” Sherlock smirked.

“P-please, Sir, please let me show you how much I enjoy your touch.”

Sherlock chuckled, “A nice touch at the end, but I think you’ve shown me that already. Very well. You may come.”

John came with a shout and several soft pants, his vision wafting out as he nearly fainted from the shifting of blood in his raised arms, the repeat orgasms, and his own near hyperventilation. Sherlock cleaned the mess off of himself this time before fetching the scissors and starting to cut him out from bottom to top. John sighed and cooed as blood rushed back into restricted limbs and movement was slowly restored. When his shoulders were reached Sherlock wrapped an arm around his lover and snipped the rope that held him up. John sagged against John, his arms falling around Sherlock’s shoulders with a loud _thwack_ as he gave himself up to his Alpha’s aftercare.

Sherlock scooped John up and laid him down on the bed, gently wiping sweat from his brow and pulling the covers up to his neck as John began to shiver from the cooling sweat on his now exposed body.

“You did _so_ well, despite your blunder,” Sherlock told him softly.

“Will I be punished?” John worried.

“No, love,” Sherlock replied with a gentle kiss to his forehead, “I’ll give you a reprieve. You’ll build up restraint in time.”

“Thank you, Sir,” John sighed, letting himself drift worry free. Sherlock left and returned a moment later to press a straw to his lips. John drank gratefully, the water tepid to avoid shock, and then sighed contentedly.

“Is there anything else you need?” Sherlock asked.

“Mmm, no,” John replied happily.

“Are you in any distress?”

“No. No subdrop. Feel _fantastic_.”

“Then I’m going to go take a shower,” Sherlock replied, giving John another buss to the forehead.

John smiled and heard Sherlock move away as he drifted from subspace to sleep without noticing the change.

XXX

Mycroft laid Gregory down on the padded table, stroking his hands along the man’s sides and limbs as he gently arranged him until the position suited him perfectly. With absolute calm he latched each wrist and ankle, never letting his excitement show despite the fact that he was aching in his trousers. He attached the spreader bar- a personal favorite of his- and lashed it to the securing pole above their heads. Then he lashed the man’s hips down with a thick Velcro band.

“Damn, Myc, what do you think I’m going to do? Run from you? I’m kinda in this 100%.”

“For the record,” Mycroft replied, “ _Shhh!_ ”

“Oh, yeah, you might want to gag me, then. I’m kinda not the ‘shhh’ type.”

Mycroft smirked but didn’t bother to gag him. He loved Gregory’s voice and all his teasing comments. It made the man who he was, and the difference between John’s casual acceptance of domination and Gregory’s absolute fascination with it was palpable. Then again, Mycroft suspected their barely existent relationship was the reason John hadn’t submitted to him emotionally, especially now that he had seen the man kneeling at Sherlock’s feet with a look of absolute adoration on his face.

“I’m going to be electrocuting you,” Mycroft stated, and then soothed the man when a burst of protests left his lips, “I’ve made certain the type of shocks I will use on you and the locations and the voltage are all safe for an Omega in the early stages of pregnancy.”

“You… you’re not trying to make me abort? In case it’s Sherlock’s?”

“I could care less of the paternity of any child you carry,” Mycroft replied, “Especially if the child happens to be my brother’s. If you recall, we are _both_ Holmes’ and I am the pack Alpha. You will have no difficulty getting me to accept the child you birth in ten months time.”

Lestrade relaxed and Mycroft adjusted the dial on his violet wand and stood at Gregory’s feet, “Shall we begin? Nod please. Good.”

Mycroft shocked his smallest toe on his right foot and Gregory yelped and then giggled in excitement.

“An acceptable response,” Mycroft smiled, “Let’s see what else I can manage to draw out of you.”

The second smallest toe was shocked and Gregory yelped again, jumping a bit despite the fact that no movement was possible. He was still smiling, but Mycroft didn’t _really_ want to wipe that half-grin off his face. The next toe drew a moan rather than a yelp and the next a hiss and a squirm. His big toe earned a deeper moan and Mycroft moved onto the left foot with a pleased smile, giving it the same treatment and earning various levels of moans and swears. The he took the right foot up again and ran the flat of the wand across it, just giving it a buzz and smiling as the man broke out in giggles and yelps when the foot got an occasional zap.

The next shock was to the sensitive back of his left knee, then another very quickly to the right before Gregory could stop jumping and shouting. He just as quickly applied a shock to the man’s exposed inner elbow, having hurried around to do so. His Omega was well into subspace now, giggling and wriggling on the table.

“Christmas octopus!” Gregory laughed, pointing his fingers as best he could towards something above him.

Mycroft glanced up at the ceiling fan, placed just so to cool off the inhabitants of Mycroft’s ‘dungeon’, was apparently rather entertaining from the midst of subspace. Mycroft took in the sight of it from an analytical viewpoint; the glass dome had a faint tint to it that gave it a very subtle rainbow appearance around part of the dome depending on where you stood. The glow was a gentle yellow rather than glaring so that it wouldn’t distract the Sub from his pleasure. The fan blades were spinning slowly, probably providing rather trippy trails for the dazed man below.

“Remind me to have another of those installed in the dining room. I have a rather wicked fantasy about taking you over the table- right where Mummy usually sits.”

“Tentacle rape!” Gregory blurted out, and then started laughing hysterically.

“Hmm, as amusing as your high is at the moment, laughter doesn’t exactly do it for me,” Mycroft chuckled, then picked up a flogger and raised his hips three inches to access his arse.

Three sharp slaps with the leather Lelo flogger had the man back to panting. A switch to a leather paddle that left heart shapes on his pretty tan arse was absolutely perfect.

“Someone’s been tanning for our wedding,” Mycroft purred in approval, “Did you have fun out with John yesterday?”

“Yeah,” Gregory sighed.

Mycroft gave him a few more hard slaps against his thighs, “Did you get lots of filthy glances form Alphas around you.”

“Nah.”

“Did you kiss John again?” Mycroft asked, knowing he had from his CCTV cameras. The two men had shared a tender snog while doing a final fitting for their wedding clothes.

“…Yeah,” Gregory replied, his tone worried.

“Did he taste good?”

“Like cherry fizzy drink,” Gregory replied, his eyes clearing a bit as he wandered out of subspace with the worry that he’d displeased his Dom.

“Did you get hard, Gregory?” Mycroft asked, grasping his cock and stroking it firmly.

“N-no. You make me hard. John is… nice.”

“Just nice?”

“He’s my friend.”

“Would you suck him off for me again if I ordered you to?”

“I’d do _anything_ for you.”

“Mmmm, good answer,” Mycroft smirked.

Mycroft moved to the foot of the table again and removed the plug from Gregory’s well stretched hole. He pumped it a few times just to enjoy the sound of it and then pulled it free and set it aside. With a single thrust he buried himself up to the hilt, enjoying the sight of Gregory’s eyes bugging a bit.

“Woah,” Gregory decided one he’d gotten his breath back.

“Indeed,” Mycroft replied smugly.

He fucked him slowly, teasing his body and letting him feel the start of his knot as it began to swell, Gregory thrashed as best he could on the table, tossing his head from side to side and clawing at his restraints. He moaned and groaned, some of them being ‘Myc’ but most just sounds of pleasure or frustration. Mycroft pinched a rather sore looking paddle mark and watched the man’s bollocks draw up.

“Beg for my knot.”

“No.”

Mycroft grabbed the paddle and gave him a particularly harsh swat, “Beg. For. My. Knot.”

“Please give me your knot oh great and powerful Alpha,” Gregory replied sarcastically.

That earned him a slap across the face and Mycroft withdrew from him with a snarl. Instead he gripped his knot himself and gave his cock several strong strokes until he was coming across the man’s body, drenching him with several ounces of hot sticky semen. Gregory cried out and made a valiant attempt to arch his back, babbling out praises as the smell of Alpha semen finally sent him into subspace.

“Enjoy come-play, do you?” Mycroft growled, smearing the substance across his disobedient Omega’s body with both hands, “I should start wearing a condom and deny you my seed, you insubordinate brat!”

Mycroft slapped his face again with a sticky hand and Gregory’s eyes rolled back in his head as he added his own spunk to the mess on his body. Mycroft shoved his fingers into the Omega’s mouth, making him suck on them and nearly gagging him in the process. He gave his bottom a few sharp slaps, made more painful for the slick substance on his hands, and then plowed into him again. This time he _did_ knot him, and gyrated his hips firmly until they both came hard once more. Panting, Mycroft stood bent forward and frowned when he realized there was nowhere to rest his head.

“Problem?” Gregory smirked, earning him another sharp rap on the face.

“Cheeky thing!”

“You clearly enjoyed it.”

“I admit,” Mycroft smiled, “That the constant overwhelmed obedience from the people I work for is a bit… underwhelming. Most Alphas aren’t as intelligent as I am, so the majority of the people I work with are Omegas and Betas. They are practically worshipful. Your rebellion is refreshing.”

“I noticed.”

“Keep it up and I’ll punish you.”

“I look forward to it.”

They relaxed into gentle caresses and tender kisses, Mycroft slowly releasing Gregory from his bindings until the man could relax flat on the table. They started chatting about their odd courtship and Mycroft made a rather shocking reveal.

“I don’t believe you,” Gregory flat out denied.

“Why not?”

“Several reasons. 1) No one is that cruel, not even a sadist, and this is coming from a _copper._ 2) There’s no way that you could have know I was your Perfect Match when you didn’t even know me before today. 3) There’s no way you could know that _John_ was _Sherlock’s_ Perfect Match. 4) You don’t even _believe_ in Perfect Matches.”

Mycroft smirked and slipped his cock free, moving around to Gregory’s head and leaning over it from above him so he could whisper into his ear.

“What if I told you that I know of a rather brilliant Omega, name of Jim Moriarty, who wrote a computer program that compares all known data- data _my_ people gathered of course, which is more accurate than what most people have access to- and provides a 98% accurate Perfect Match pairing for anyone it analyses?”

“I’d ask you why you didn’t just go find me and then introduce John to Sherlock,” Gregory replied, his tone bitter and hurt.

“Because you were already with my annoying brother and John was damaged. Sherlock would have seen him as a project and John would have felt as obliged to him as he did to me; the relationship would have ended up as a friendship and I would have been seen as ‘stealing’ you from my brother, thus worsening our already tenuous relationship.”

“So you set us up to go into Mock Heat over and again until we shagged and got it right?” Gregory asked, still annoyed but with a note of understanding in his voice.

“The orgy was a surprise,” Mycroft shrugged, “I expected John to be less recalcitrant and I didn’t expect you to leave. It just goes to show that you can’t predict _every_ move a person makes.”

“You… you’re a freakin genius.”

“Yes,” Mycroft smirked, “I am.”

_Fin._

A/N- a few notes on this chapter:

While I love rope, my Master isn’t into bondage so I have 0 experience with it. I hope it was at least somewhat accurate.

John went into Mock Heat more often than Lestrade did because he was being more stubborn, whereas Lestrade determined after the first one that he was going to get him some Mycroft Holmes no matter what he had to do to get him.

The Christmas Octopus is a real deal, it’s hanging in my dining room where Master left me wallowing on the nice cold floor in blissful subspace. My crazy ass saw the ceiling fan and started giggling like a crazy person. It was awesome.


End file.
